


Love Song

by Annie17851



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, major death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy ending. The gates of Heaven were really closed with Metatron’s spell. Dean stopped Sam from completing the demon trials, to save his life. There is no Gadreel possession, because the angels did not fall. They are locked away. Years pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> The gates of Heaven were really closed with Metatron’s spell. Dean stopped Sam from completing the demon trials, to save his life. There is no Gadreel possession, because the angels did not fall. They are locked away. Years pass.

Love Song

 

Dean sat up in bed, pulled abruptly from sleep by the nightmare. Or was it a nightmare? Yea, mostly. 

In his dream, he had been reliving that night a year ago. That night Sam almost died and Dean saw Castiel for the last time. 

“So, this is it? ET goes home?” echoed in his head, the part of the dream he remembered most clearly at the moment. Weird.

Dean got out of bed and headed for the bunker’s kitchen, careful to be quiet as he passed Sam’s bedroom door. Even though it had been a year since the final phase of the demon trials, Sam still had some residual side effects, mostly fatigue, as if his body was still trying to heal and was wearing itself out doing so. 

Dim light drifted down the halls from the library, so Dean knew Kevin was still awake. Kevin had opted to stay with them, wanted to be a Man of Letters with Sam. After all the boy had seen, he fully understood the need for someone to defend the world from all the demons that weren't locked in Hell anymore. 

Dean detoured into the library, curious as to what had Kevin up so late this time. 

Kevin looked up, a little bleary-eyed, from the thick book he had been studying. “Hey, Dean. Nightmares again?” He greeted the hunter quietly.

“Whatcha’ reading?” Dean evaded the question, mostly because he wasn't sure these dreams that woke him occasionally were even really nightmares. 

“Studying up on angels,” Kevin told him. “You know, just in case.”

Dean looked over the boy’s shoulder at the illustration in the book. A powerful warrior angel was depicted there, and a pang of remorse flicked through Dean, there and then gone. 

“Locked in Heaven, Kev.” Dean reminded him, turning to continue on his way into the kitchen. 

“Well, you never know, there’s probably a reversal spell for that, and we don’t want all those dicks down here again, do we?” Kevin argued. 

“They’re not all dicks,” Dean refuted, mumbling to himself. But Kevin heard him anyway and looked after the elder Winchester sympathetically. 

Dean made a sandwich and grabbed a beer, settling in at the kitchen table and trying to remember the dream that had pulled him from sleep. It had been a replay of the last time he had seen Castiel. In that bar, having their last beer together, their last talk, their last- everything- together. Cas had gone on later to meet Metatron and apparently the gates of Heaven had closed. Dean had prayed, of course, prayed to Castiel and then to any angel within hearing distance, but it had been a year now, so Dean had resigned himself to the fact that Cas was gone. He’d been enjoying the dream, a rare enough thing, and then something had crept in. A sound. High-pitched, distracting, and it had been that barely-heard, almost electronic squeal that had awoken him so suddenly. 

It would always be that night, Dean would eventually realize. That same night Heaven had been locked down, that night every year would be when he would have the dreams. Although, some years, the dreams would be better than others. 

 

Year 2

The weather at the lake was perfect and Dean lazily settled deeper into his chair at the end of the dock. The sky was angel-eye blue, dotted only occasionally with wisps of white. The gentlest of warm breezes touched Dean’s face and the surface of the lake, making tiny ripples to reflect the afternoon sun. Dean had only a light grip on the fishing rod in his hand. He never caught a fish here, mostly just a pleasant buzz from the beer he had sitting on the old wood next to his chair. 

It had been so long since he had heard the soft rustle of angel wings that he was startled by the “Hello, Dean,” coming from the figure that had appeared near him. 

Dean jumped up, almost knocking the chair over, and grabbed the angel in a fierce hug. 

“Cas, man, where have you been?” he demanded when he finally pulled himself away. “I prayed, so many times.”

Castiel reached out to put a hand on Dean’s arm. “I know, Dean. Sometimes I can’t hear you, though, with Heaven locked away. And sometimes I’m in battle. There are still factions trying to take over, trying to say God will never come back. The rest of us are trying to keep everything intact for when He finally does.”

“How are you here, Cas? Or, you’re not really, I guess. I’m dreaming.” 

“You are dreaming. I miss you, Dean. My life is –not the same without the Winchesters. How is Sam?”

“Sammy’s great! All healed up from the trials. We’re still in the bunker. Kevin is staying with us permanently now. He’s all proud to be a Man of Letters. We’re still hunting, since we never closed the Gates of Hell that day. We miss you, too, Cas. We made a room for you, just in case you ever get out.” Dean told him tentatively. 

Sadness crossed Castiel’s face then. “As much as it pains me to say it, I hope my brothers never get the chance to go down to Earth again. Not after the mess we made of it last time.”

Dean shook his head. “That wasn't you, Cas. I know you tried to do good, not like the other dicks.” 

The angel smiled ruefully. “That never usually turned out well, did it?”

“You tried, man, we all tried. We’re still trying. But, Cas, if Heaven is locked, what about the good people down here who are dying? Where are they?”

“Souls can still enter Heaven,” Castiel assured him. “It’s just angels that cannot pass through to come to Earth.”

“Well, that’s good any..”

Castiel disappeared abruptly, along with the dock and the lake. Dean’s eyes opened to see Sam’s head peeking around the bedroom door. 

“Pack up,” Sam was saying. “I found a case!” 

That had been a good dream, but then there were the in-between dreams. The nightmares. The dreams when Dean would wake up shaking and sweating in the middle of the night, bloody images of death and loss etched in his mind, perfectly clear, underlain by that screeching, staticy sound. Dean knew it was angel-speak, recognized it from that time in the old gas station, after Castiel had raised him from the grave. Somehow, when he talked to Cas in his dreams, he always managed to forget to ask him about it, always had more important things he wanted to tell the angel, always worried he would wake up too quickly. There were stories of hunts and life in the bunker Dean wanted to share with the angel, and those opportunities were too few and far between for Dean’s liking. 

 

Year 5

“It’s a little stormy on my dock today, Cas,” Dean noted, handing the angel a nice, cold beer. “Your doing?”

“Not intentionally,” Castiel assured him, closing his eyes in concentration briefly. The damp air cleared and the sky was blue once again. 

“So, things not going so well?” Dean guessed.

Cas sighed. “The most recent battle did not go well. I have lost many brethren.”

“You be careful, Cas, ya hear me?”

Dean waited for Cas to assure him that he was being as careful as possible and then he launched into an animated narrative of yesterday’s hunt with Sam. 

 

Year 10 

“I’m getting gray, Cas. Saw it in the mirror this morning. Never actually thought I’d live long enough to see it.” 

Castiel regarded Dean approvingly. “No grays in your hair here, Dean. Not in your dreams. Here, you are forever the Dean I last spent time with on Earth.”

Dean snorted. “Good to know. So, if I ever get to be all gray and crotchety, we’re still,” He waved a hand between the two of them. “Us. Like now.”

Cas gave the hunter a tiny smile. “Yes, Dean, Everything is perfect in these dreams.”

“But I have nightmares, too, Cas.” Dean argued. “Why can’t you come then? Sometimes it’s years before I see you again. I have these nightmares and all I can hear is that weird-ass angel voice of yours.”

Before Cas could answer, Dean woke up again.

There was another case. It would be Sam’s last hunt.

 

Year 15

 

“Where have you been, Cas? I've prayed. Every night since Sam- every friggin’ night, Cas, and all I get is nightmares and screeching sounds and you’re never there!” Dean railed at the angel, tears in his eyes. “Sammy’s gone, Cas!”

Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. “I know, Dean. I’m so, so sorry. I have tried to get away, truly. It has been very bad here…..”

Dean reeled away from Cas. “It has been very freaking bad on Earth, too, Cas! Sam’s gone! And all I have left is a bunker with no brother and hunters who keep asking me for help and nightmares. So many nightmares! I drag myself out of nightmares and it doesn't stop when I’m awake. Where were you when I needed you?”

“Dean,” Cas started, but Dean stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t. Don’t even come to my dreams anymore!”

Dean sat up in bed abruptly, resigned to a lifetime of nightmares and ear-shattering angel-speak. 

 

Year 30

Dean was on his dock again, cold beer in his hand, warm breeze wafting over him, wispy clouds in the angel-eye blue sky. Like the first time. He didn't even have to look over to know the angel was standing beside him. 

“I told you not to come here anymore, Cas.” Dean reminded him, only halfheartedly, because he had felt the little leap of happiness his heart had done in his chest at the realization that Castiel was there again. After so long. 

“I was waiting for you, Dean,” the angel replied. “I have some things to tell you. And to show you. I have been keeping tabs on everyone, and now that the fighting has come to an end, I have the time. All the time I want. Stand up.”

Dean did as Cas asked, turning his attention to the opposite side of the lake, where the angel was pointing. 

“You can’t see it from here,” Cas said, “but just beyond that grove of tall trees is Sam and Jess’s Heaven. They have a house and a white picket fence. And a puppy. Way further down, there is another house. Your parents are there.”

Castiel moved his arm fractionally to the right. “If you look closely, you can just see the top of a wooden building through those evergreens. It’s the Roadhouse. Ellen, Jo and Ash are there. Right next door is the salvage yard, where Bobby lives.”

Dean blinked, forcing the tears forming in his eyes to overflow onto his cheeks. “Sam?” He choked out. “Sammy’s here? Why didn't you come, Cas?” he pleaded. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I wanted to, Dean,” Cas assured him. “But, I was so busy. Trying to end the war. And building this.”

He put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and turned him to face the shore. There was a small cottage there, smoke curling from a chimney. Dean’s Impala was parked by the front door. Just beyond the cottage was the parking lot of a roadside diner, the lighted neon signs in the windows advertising Dean’s favorite brand of beer and ‘the best burgers’ in the USA.’

“Cas,” came from Dean in a whisper. “Am I dead?”

Cas nodded slightly. “Kevin is asleep at the table in the library. In an hour and twelve minutes, he will wake up and wonder why you haven’t come through, complaining about him staying up all night. He will go to your room and find you there. You had a peaceful final sleep.”

“And Kevin will be the last of the Men of Letters?” Dean asked sadly. 

“He will find others. There will always be a need.” 

“So, that’s it then. I've checked out. For good. This is- this is my Heaven? And you built it for me?”

“Yes. Let me show you inside. You’ll love the antique gun collection.” Castiel promised him. 

Dean grabbed the angel’s arm, stopping him from walking back up the dock. “Wait, Cas. You never told me. You just said you were too busy to come when I had all those nightmares. For years. I know you were busy, but what were you saying? In all those dreams. What were you trying to tell me?”

Castiel tilted his head slightly, regarding his Righteous Man with his clear blue gaze. “It’s ancient Enochian. It pre-dates just about everything.”

Dean looked back at the angel, puzzled.

Cas smiled. “Dean, it’s a love song.”


End file.
